


His Tractor's Sexy

by transandrewminyard (nocturnalboys)



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - High School, Animals, M/M, Sheep & Goats, Trans Andrew Minyard, Trans Neil Josten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 01:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnalboys/pseuds/transandrewminyard
Summary: Neil Josten and his mother have been on the move for years, Neil switching schools every couple of months, never truly finding anything to care deeply about. That changes when he finds himself in the rural town of Foxhole, and on a spur of the moment impulse decides to join a livestock showing club, along the way finding a passion he didn't know he had and new friends he didn't think he would make. (Written in collaboration with my close good friend and roommate, Travis)





	His Tractor's Sexy

**Author's Note:**

> My dear roommate and very good friend Travis wrote this !!! He does not have an ao3 so he asked me to post it on my account for him! This is his first fic, and I will be writing it with him (every other chapter) !!!

Neil stood in the school hallway, eyes flicking back and forth as he furiously tried to memorize his schedule. He hoped he could burn it into his brain instead of having to foolishly carry the paper all day. Satisfied with his memory’s ability to retain the order and location of his classes, he left the schedule in a garbage bin. His last class was an elective that apparently most students were shoved in as a sort of last-ditch effort to keep them occupied. Palmetto High School was just trying to keep those kids in a classroom instead of causing a commotion in town. The counselor had mentioned something about animal experience to Neil, which had sparked some excitement, and he allowed himself to feel some level of intrigue for how his sixth hour of classes would go.

When he finally walked in, he worked quickly to absorb every detail of the room. The Agriscience class seemed to contain students from all grade levels. People sat in clumps among the rows of desks, starting at the back and decreasing in concentration towards the front of the room. As expected, he did not recognise anyone, so he did his best to sit alone in the center of the room. The front of the room boasted a little podium with a gavel sitting on it. Just after the bell rang, a male teacher walked over to the podium-- seeing that the bell failed to bring his students to attention, he rapped the gavel on the podium until everybody quieted down.

“I’m sure he’s already gone through an intro a few times today, so I won’t bother him again, but I do want us all to welcome a new student, Neil Josten, to Palmetto FFA.” A few students muttered a greeting, but nobody seemed that delighted to have a fresh face there. Neil was relieved to not be the focus of attention. They could completely ignore him for all he cared. The man-- David Wymack, Neil remembered from his trashed schedule-- allowed a few seconds of disapproval to show on his face before carrying on to the next order of business. Wymack reminded the students that slots were still open to join Palmetto FFA’s livestock showing team, gesturing to a pristine stack of applications on the front table. Species still available included sheep, pigs, and what Wymack called “smallstock”. Neil had never been on a farm before, let alone a show team, but animals had always been dear to him. Plus, the tone of Wymack’s announcement seemed to hint that there would not be a great deal of competition to get on the team.

Most of the class time was spent between Wymack explaining a project where students would create a presentation on current agricultural issues, and the students pretending to work on said project. Walking back to his desk and computer, Wymack called over Neil to begin giving him an explanation of what it meant to be an FFA member. The organization was part of a national group which had recently abandoned any meaning to its initials. Their goal was to use agricultural experiences to foster leadership, personal growth, and future career success. Neil tried to listen to all the details Wymack threw at him, but after everything else new that day, very little stuck. Basically, Palmetto FFA was halfway decent at one thing, and that one thing was showing livestock. With the teacher’s encouragement, Neil stuck an application for the team in his backpack. Turning back to his assignment, his mind wandered, and sleep was knocking at the corner of his brain. The project could wait. The final bell shook him from his stupor-- he noticed that some students remained fixed in the FFA room, but he followed in the majority’s footsteps by leaving for home.

\---

Since arriving in the North Carolina town of Foxhole, Neil and his mother had been living in an unofficial RV park. That is to say, they lived in an RV on a random piece of land surrounded by a field of wheat. Getting home from a bus stop took just about a mile and a half of walking, if he went as the crow flies. As he expected, he got to the RV after finishing his first day at Palmetto High School to find himself alone. Neil’s brain was still fuzzy from everything new that he had experienced that day, so he ignored the homework he’d accumulated over the course of the day and crawled up into the tiny loft to nap. When he awoke, it was still light out, and his mother was still absent. He began sifting through his backpack and pulled out the only interesting paper-- the form for the show team. The first question-- which species he would be working with -- stared at him for a few minutes until a wispy memory crystallized. Wymack had mentioned during class how no current students had sheep. And that was one of the types of animal there was space for at school, so he wouldn’t have to try and figure out a deal with a stranger. Let alone transportation. Neil circled ‘lamb’ and continued to the next question. By the time he was satisfied with his responses, the sun was low in the sky. He microwaved a meal and devoured it quickly, hoping to get done with a good deal of his homework that night before too much piled up.

When his mother finally opened the door, he was midway through a set of geometry problems. Fortunately, his show team application was snug in a folder, and out of his mother’s sight. Neil had no desire to try and fight her for permission to take up a new hobby. She left her purse in front of her son and opened the fridge for her own dinner. Upon her request, Neil gave a quick rundown of his day as the microwave beeped that her meal was ready. She nodded along as he went through each subject.

“Make sure to lay low, okay? I know it’s hard to blend into the crowd at such a small school, but you have to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yeah, there was no way he would tell her about the showstock thing. He wasn’t even on the team yet, he could worry about excuses later. He did not bother to ask her about her day in return. It had been a long time since he yearned to know how his parents made a living. After finishing geometry, he spent some time pretending to read a chapter from his history textbook, before retiring back to his little nook. He and his mother wished each other good night as she pulled the couch out to form her own bed. Neil dreamed of a sheep that was running ahead of him, always just out of reach.

\---

At the end of his second day in Agriscience, Neil walked up to Wymack and turned in the livestock showing form. The man looked over the paper briefly before directing his attention back to Neil.

“Good job, you made the team.” Neil blinked at him. That was easy. “We have meetings after school on Wednesdays. But I can explain your responsibilities now. Don’t worry about the finances, we live in such an agricultural area that our FFA has funding to buy everything for you. I have the connections to help you find your animal. After we talk you can look at our pens and pick which one is yours. You have to be here daily to keep your animal fed and watered, along with tidying up their pen. Oh, and you should be working with them in the grass everyday.” Neil apparently looked quizzical at that, because Wymack continued by asking how much he knew about the livestock show circuit.

“Not much.” Well, nothing.

“I’ll start with the end. These animals will all be sold in an auction at the end of the year. That is at the main county fair, which is a week long. The success of our show team will determine how early or late we go in auction, along with the possibility of a cash prize. Now, that success depends on more than just the county fair week. Points are compiled from various stock shows and jackpot shows over the months. We go to as many shows as the students want, but only the top eight scores are considered to determine auction placement. Points come from two categories; market and showmanship. Market is how good your animal looks and showmanship is how good you look in being able to control your animal. That’s why you have to work them, to get them to listen.” Wymack paused to glance back down at Neil’s form and nodded in approval when seeing his selection of species. “It’s good you chose lambs, that will help us get more points. Now we have somebody for every category. We might actually have a chance at winning this year.”

By this point, Neil had already missed his usual bus, so he had another hour to wait for the late one. He walked around the ten pens in the school’s barn. They all seemed to be the same size, with dirt floors that bore various pockmarks from years of use. Neil saw automatic waterers and food troughs, along with doors that would give the animals access to fresh air. There was no direct connection, however, between the animal pens and the field where Wymack said he would be ‘working’ his sheep. The boy stood in the barn, empty except for spiders and pigeons, imagining all the animals which had been here over the years, their ghosts seeming to fill the space.


End file.
